Man, September 2020. What a whirlwind that was. As a Pisces, you know how things can get a bit blurry sometimes, especially when it comes to practical stuff like money. And back then, blurry was an understatement. I remember staring at my bank account, feeling that familiar chill run down my spine.
Things had been tight for a few months already, you know, with everything happening in the world. My freelance gigs, which usually kept me afloat, just dried up. Poof. Gone. One day I was planning a decent year, the next I was wondering if I could afford to run the heater much. It felt like walking on thin ice, every single day. I kept telling myself, “It’s fine, it’ll bounce back,” but deep down, I knew I had to get real. Like, really real.
I started by just avoiding looking at the numbers, which, surprise, didn’t fix anything. It actually made it worse because anxiety just kept building. So, one Tuesday morning, after a particularly restless night, I just pulled out my old, beat-up notebook. I figured, no more hiding. I had to face this thing head-on. This was it, the moment I finally decided to put my big boy pants on and actually track where my money was going, or rather, where it wasn’t coming from.
Getting Down to Brass Tacks
First thing I did was just write down every single penny I knew I had coming in. Or might have coming in. It was a short list. Then, the scary part: every single thing that went out. Rent, utilities, that stupid streaming service I barely watched, coffee runs, even the occasional takeout when I was too tired to cook. And let me tell you, when you write it all down, it’s a real slap in the face. Suddenly, that “occasional” takeout looked like a weekly ritual, and those small subscriptions added up to a mountain.
I physically laid out my bank statements, my credit card bills, everything. I didn’t use any fancy apps, just my pen and paper. I needed to see it, physically. My process went something like this:
- Categorize Everything: I made big headings: “Fixed Bills,” “Variable Spending,” “Savings (Ha!),” “Emergency Fund (Double Ha!).”
- Ruthless Cutbacks: I went through “Variable Spending” like a madman. That streaming service? Gone. Those fancy coffees? Replaced by instant coffee at home. Eating out? Only if it was absolutely necessary and cheap. I even stopped buying new books for a bit, relying on the library. It felt like I was stripping down to bare bones.
- Hunting for Pennies: I started looking for any tiny bit of income I could pull in. I sold some old tech lying around, even some books I didn’t think I’d read again. It wasn’t much, but every twenty bucks felt like a win. It made me feel like I was doing something, not just drowning.
The biggest eye-opener was seeing just how much “little things” bled my account dry. It wasn’t one big expense; it was a thousand tiny drips. Once I saw it all written out, the plan started to form in my head. It wasn’t a grand strategy, just simple, day-to-day discipline.
The Grind and the Glimmer
For the rest of September and into October, it was a daily grind. I packed my lunch every single day. I cooked almost every meal at home. I walked instead of taking the bus for short trips. I haggled on a few bills, just to see if I could get a small discount. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but I kept trying.
What really changed was my mindset. Instead of thinking “I can’t afford this,” I started thinking “Do I need this?” Most of the time, the answer was no. It wasn’t about deprivation; it was about prioritizing. It was about taking control back, even if it was just over a few dollars here and there. That feeling of control, even a tiny bit, was worth more than any fancy latte.
It wasn’t easy, and there were days I just wanted to throw in the towel and order a huge pizza. But then I’d look at my notebook, see the progress, however small, and it would keep me going. I saw my emergency fund, which had been practically non-existent, slowly start to build up, even if it was just a few dollars at a time. It felt like I was patching up a leaky boat, and it was finally starting to float a bit higher.
By the time October rolled around, I wasn’t rich, not by a long shot. But I wasn’t panicking every time I checked my balance. I had a clear picture of what was happening, and more importantly, I had a plan. That initial fear of September 2020 forced me to get seriously disciplined with my money, a lesson I still carry with me today. It showed me that sometimes, the best way forward is just to lay it all out, ugly as it might be, and deal with it one line item at a time.
